Bookmark #333

When I woke up today, the apartment had a sepia tint to it. In the confusion of not having fully stepped out of my sleep, I thought of myself in a film, as if I had been transported into how I remember some moments—golden and warm. A second later, I realised the sun was shining outside; even at ten in the morning, balmy air wafted around me. It occurred to me I had left the balcony door open behind the curtain last night. It was the source of my amber daydream. I conducted this pointless investigation curled up in my bed, with my eyes still closed. Worrying about why something is the way it is was a sure-shot way to wake yourself up. It was the only way I knew how to wake up; all I thought about was why things were the way they were.

I always found it interesting how the first few moments after we arose dictated the step of our days. I was well aware that a moment should not hold our days hostage, but all that was talk for people who lived with avoidance. That is not to say it was not good advice. It was the most important thing to know about better days—the direction of our days could change from any point. We did not have to wait for a fresh start if some event ruffles us up at quarter past three in the afternoon. We could wait a minute, take a deep breath and get a hold of our day the minute we wanted to. But I was not too scared of feeling what I felt; I had an outlet in these words.

I was talking to someone I had met for the very first time the other day. We spoke of levity and being okay with embarrassing yourself, enjoying ridiculous humour and spending our days with a sort of lightness about them. Then, it occurred to me how these words make me sound more serious than my usual disposition, which is in all senses of the word, klutzy. It was all the others without a place to dump what they thought, who carried their days with a seriousness beyond my imagination and planned their lives for decades to come, worrying about every little thing. My worries were under metaphors and imagery. I wouldn’t know what I would do without them.

Where would it all go? How would I carry it all? What would I do with it?

I worry I would eat myself alive.

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